Saved by the Bell
by aru-dight
Summary: It would only take one nail to seal the coffin of their marriage. But Fate had other plans. Think of this as...being saved by the bell. Besides, not everything that looks dead made it as such. If one would look a little closer, a little deeper, life might still be lurking underneath. Written for Dramionelove Minifest 2018.


_Warnings (if any): consensual sex, marriage of convenience, accidental pregnancy, threatened miscarriage_

 _Author's Notes: Hey, dear reader! This story was a direct result of a moment of weakness. Yes, I was guilty of stealing a few minutes scrolling through my Tumblr feed in the middle of exam week. I saw the promo for this fest, and this prompt just connected with me. You'll discover my favorite tropes jammed in this one. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is a lot of firsts for me - first fest, first smut piece. Fingers crossed. Hehe. So...happy reading!_

 _I want to thank the people that helped me along the way: Nikki (NeverNik), Sarah (sshanholtzer44), Darinda (daswhoiam), Dorothy (dorothymalfoy), Hannah (parchmentandoldbooks), Sam (Quickhidetherum), and Nia (nightfae). Thank you daswhoiam, for the story banner! And of course, RZZMG for organizing this fest._

 _Prompt: Hermione and Draco were just a step away from having a divorce. But one drunken night led to lots of arguments and that led to a drunken session of mind blowing sex. Four weeks later Hermione realises she was late. Draco was cruel and verbally abusive._

 **Disclaimer:"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This work of fiction/art was created entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

 ** _Saved by the Bell_**

* * *

" _I'm late."  
_

 _His face was blank.  
_

 _Amateur. Communication is a shared language.  
_

 _Hermione rephrased her announcement in the most condescending tone she could muster. "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. You're going to be a father."  
_

 _Draco paused, eyes roving from head to toe, only to zero in on her midsection.  
_

 _He recovered quickly, but not enough to exceed her expectation. It was subtle; a spark of emotion in his eyes, a slightly dry mouth, and a tight grip on his quill.  
_

" _Congratulations to you too, Mrs. Malfoy."_

* * *

It happened during the Ministry Annual Gala. She should have known. There were handfuls of babies born nine months after this eventful social function. It was basically an urban legend!

It was _the_ event of the season, they said. Rita Skeeter dubbed it, "the grandest night of all the nights."

Hermione always thought it was a load of crap. It was that time of the year where people had an excuse to dress all fancy and sparkly, drink wine and _socialize_. Where employees shamelessly sucked up to their high-brow bosses and wealthy benefactors.

Most parents would have a romanticized version of their children's conception stories. Hermione prided herself as a realist, so she wouldn't. It wasn't the night's gentle breeze. Or the bubbling excitement that would sizzle to romantic energy in the arms of the one you loved. But the wine...yes, that was it!

Twirling skirts and merry laughter, bokeh renditions of dancing, and coy smiles.

Only - it wasn't with the love of her life. Or her husband.

God, the words "her husband" and "love of her life" didn't fit in the same sentence.

No, it was Anthony Goldstein. Anthony and his warmth. It could make any woman feel...y'know?

People were whispering behind their hands, their gazes flitting from the dance floor to the shady parts of the bar. Where her "other half" was, bedecked with a bimbo or two.

Let them talk. They couldn't fathom the truth, even if they'd tried.

Everyone knew the marriage of one Draco Malfoy and one Hermione Granger was the _courteous_ kind. A little birdy called "Skeeter" ran a story about it. Her research led her to the conclusion that the Granger-Malfoy nuptials were a trial run of the Marriage Law Bill.

The masses were inconsolable once the article hit the stands. Was the future union of their youth doomed to be as lifeless and indifferent as these two miserable people?

The Ministry quickly shut down the rumour mill. The two stayed married, indiscretions aside, to the intrigue of many…

It began with an interlude. Hermione was lightheaded and flushed from all the dancing. Suddenly Draco was there, whisking her away.

"My wife and I have to retire early for the evening, gentlemen," Draco said smoothly. In comparison, his grip on her arm was rough. He nodded at Kingsley Shacklebolt. "You have to excuse us, Minister."

"Of course," the Minister replied.

Another Ministry official toasted "To be young and in love!"

The wizards chuckled their assent while the witches shared knowing smiles.

Hermione blanched, but offered a mute nod. She diffused the tension with a serene smile.

"Slow down," she hissed at a smiling Draco, who was briskly ushering her away. Music drifted down the darkened corridor. "What do you want, Draco?"

"I suppose you greeted Goldstein for the both of us, didn't you, Hermione?" His cold finger traced the smooth line of her jaw. "You were all over him."

She suppressed a shiver and glared at him.

Belly laughter and promiscuous giggles interrupted them. "Oh! We're so very sorry," a wizard slurred.

An equally drunk witch stumbled alongside him. "Excuse us," she said, winking.

Once out of earshot, they were at each other's throats. Literally.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione purred. She undid a few of his dress shirt buttons, letting her fingers graze the pale skin that his clothing allowed. "How's Astoria? Or is it Tracy? Forgive me. I can't seem to keep track of your latest squeeze." The sweetness of her voice bordered on acidic. "You don't own me," Hermione said threateningly. It was a vow, a warning, and a mantra.

His abrasive chuckle, coupled with his hot breath blowing against her ear made her damp. "I have a piece of paper that says _I do_."

"You may be able to control who I don't sleep with, but you don't have any power over my fantasies."

Drunken bravado became Hermione. Draco never so much as looked at her with interest before. Oh, how he stared now! That vein on his neck could burst. Silver fire ignited in his eyes, his nostrils flared, and a silent, predatory rage possessed him. The sight...stirred pent-up feelings she shouldn't be feeling, especially for her husband. Anger, fear, anticipation...arousal.

"You deserve a reminder," he murmured.

His lips caught hers without premonition, hard and demanding. Any sound of protest was trapped by the sudden invasion of his tongue.

This was about dominance.

The thing about this man was that he was a snake: sinful, tempting and calculated.

Competition never boded well with Hermione. So she fought back, ever determined to serve Draco Malfoy his own ashes.

Their tongues clashed until they were hot and breathless.

"I. Don't. Need. A. Bloody. Reminder," Hermione panted once they broke apart. Her hands were tangled in his silky platinum-blonde hair while his mouth drifted from her neck to the flesh her décolletage offered. "You already have me. Thank your ancestors for that."

It was a low blow, knowing the foundation of their marriage.

He looked up, gray eyes dark and glazed. Not just with desire. "Don't go there," he warned, voice low and husky. His fingers dug into her hips. "You'll regret it."

"Daddy Dearest got you the girl, Drakie boy."

"I'll show you what _Daddy Dearest_ can't do."

She whimpered as his mouth bit a hardened nipple through her silk gown.

Anyone could walk in on them any minute; and she wouldn't be subjected to such humiliation. She could barely think straight, much less endure the gossip.

Hermione felt his crotch, massaging the growing bulge in his pants.

Juvenile. They were both acting juvenile, but neither of them could care less.

"Oh, no, you don't," Draco growled. He pinned her arms to the side, then turned her around so his erection prodded her backside.

"I hate you," she said, rocking her hips to the tempo of music only they could hear. In harmony to the sounds they were both making - heavy breaths and suppressed moans.

"Back at you, baby." Draco nibbled the sensitive spot on her neck. Her breath caught, pulse hammering wildly.

"Take me home." She tilted her head to look at him, shaking. "We'll settle this at home."

Draco apparated them to the master bedroom.

The panic she felt vanished as she recognized the location. Why did he bring her here? No-one occupied this room. They'd slept in separate beds, ever since their wedding night, fifteen months ago.

He must have seen the curiosity in her eyes and the dawning realization.

"I'll make you remember who you belong to."

"I belong to no one!" Hermione drilled that into her head ever since she found out she was marrying her childhood rival.

 _Payment is due, and they want you._ The solicitor's words were vague but definite: a magical contract between her ancestors and his in return for her family's ancestral land. She had no choice; it was binding. Her family grew up in that vineyard. Malfoy only sought to reap the benefits of being married to the Muggle-born heroine.

They never married for love. She was chained to a cold, selfish bastard for a husband. That thought brought silent tears on the loneliest of nights.

Tonight was different.

There was nothing between them. She pretended she was just a woman and he was just a man, seeking release in each other's arms. She closed her eyes and brought her lips to his. After tonight, she would be free.

Greedy hands clawed at every piece of clothing they could rip from each other. The pop of buttons from his robes and the sharp ' _ssssszzz'_ of her dress sounded satisfying.

In between a rock and a hard place, her back digging into the molded bed post was most unbearable. Draco was everywhere, his weight a delicious force holding her captive.

"Hermione, get rid of those divorce papers."

His hand delved between her thighs, tracing the lips of her sex, coaxing it to submission. Her efforts to deny him the satisfaction of breaking apart only made the orgasm stronger.

"How did you know?" she gritted.

He stopped.

She begged for him to continue. The release had only wound her tighter.

"You're not going anywhere, Granger."

Like his kisses, he entered her without warning. She gasped at the sweet stretch of her body opening up for him, welcoming him, even. "You're mine!"

Hermione wondered how he could still string a decent sentence together, but she'd be damned if they weren't on even ground. She rolled her hips, driving him to insanity with her determined strokes and lustful moans.

So it went; every reciprocated thrust, the rolls and dips of their bodies communicating what they couldn't say to each other. They took and took and _took_ whatever they wanted from each other. It was an angry sort of coupling. He pulled her hair; she scratched his back. They exchanged jabs with their tangled tongues; gave and received blows in the touches they wouldn't share with each other while sober. They built each other up, only to break apart what they built.

Teeth, soft flesh, bruises...

What was the difference between a bruise and a hickey?

" _Mine,_ " Draco grunted over and over, hips slamming into hers.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione growled into his neck, biting until she drew blood. This was her clapback for making her hurt. He'd taken everything, so now was the time to settle that score. _Thrust._ For every hurtful word. _Thrust._ Every missed opportunity. _Thrust._ Every unshed tear. _Suck._ Every wasted moment.

They caved into each other, spiraling out of control until the sounds and patterns of their fucking became incoherent. Flesh slapped against flesh, they made uninhibited moans, and desire was built up with momentum.

His thrusts grew more frantic by the minute.

"Mine!"

He bit into her shoulder.

"Yours!" Hermione screamed, eyes squeezed shut as a million tiny lights exploded behind her lids.

Yes, he'd left quite a mark—a part of him took root.

* * *

Blood snaked down her thighs during the conference.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was the first one to notice.

There were no cramps, as the baby books had warned.

Suddenly it was like floating out of her body, watching herself play out a role on stage. She watched frantic colleagues and helpless Ministry officials gather around her, soothe her, while calling for help.

Anthony Goldstein carried her to the nearest Apparition point to St. Mungo's. There, she was carted through labyrinthine hallways that smelled of antiseptic and dead air.

The images blurred, but the feelings branded themselves in her chest. She remembered how she didn't dare move because she feared if she did the baby would slip right out. Tears openly shed themselves, and she let them go. She regretted every thought she'd had about not wanting her baby, because as healers fussed over her while she lay there, helpless and afraid, she found out how simply untrue that was. She did want it.

Was it too late?

"I want to see my wife!"

The voice rang with such unadulterated panic and rage that she didn't recognize it at first.

Draco burst into the emergency room. The Healers didn't bother barring him entry; out of fear, out of pity - she'd never know. He held her hand tightly and when their eyes met, their mutual anxiety and grief shocked her.

Draco whispered words of comfort into her hair. Words she thought he'd never say. She didn't know if it was for her or for him, or for the child they were losing.

They clung to each other.

The Healer spoke, breaking the cocoon they'd constructed out of their combined bravery. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, we need to perform a few scans and tests."

He cast a charm that projected the interior of the womb.

Hermione shut her eyes, refusing to see a hollow, gray cavity.

Instead, there was a faint whooshing sound.

"Open your eyes," Draco whispered.

She followed his line of sight…

A beating heart.

"Your baby is safe, Mrs. Malfoy. I reckon she's a fighter. You bled quite a lot."

Innumerable emotions gripped her, relief and awe most of all. And wonder at the husband still holding her hand, an arrested expression on his face as he stared at the image with parted lips.

Did she mention that hope was also one of them?

"Do you mean it?"

They lay on the same bed. Draco refused to leave her alone. Hermione turned to face him.

"Did you mean what you said in the hospital? It's us against the world?"

She whispered it in the scant distance between them. But his voice still echoed in their depths. "I do." Draco turned to face her. "It's you, me, and this little one." His palm rested on her belly.

A voice in her head screamed for him to do much more, but the quietness of the night fared better with innocent touches.

"Goldstein deserves my thanks. He was there when I was not."

"There was nothing between Anthony and me, Draco, and there never will be."

"I thought your fantasies belonged to him."

In the darkness, a flash of his smirk came to mind.

"My fantasies belong to the future."

In the darkness, she allowed herself a smile.

"It's you, me, and this little one."

Her hand came to rest atop his.

 **End**

* * *

I'm thinking of making this into a full-fledged multi-chap. What do you guys think? Should I do it?


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